On visiting Derek Jarman's Garden

There are times, I think, in every writer's life, when inspiration feels in short supply, when everyday events take over and fresh input is needed if we're going to thrive creatively. I hit this point a week or so ago and we took a decision to get away. We are now staying in Rye, on the South Coast of England, a town I last visited as a child of eight years old, a place that held strong personal memories. My family is sleeping as I write.

I knew, when we set off, that I wanted to visit Derek Jarman's garden at Dungerness, a pilgrimage I've desired to make for some years (yet have always somehow put off). So it was a thrill, today, to finally visit the landscape that I'd first read about eight years ago when researching my novel 'Bluethroat Morning'.

I've long admired Howard Sooley's photos of Jarman's garden. For those not familiar with the garden, the British filmmaker Jarman called his garden 'Paradise' yet it was planted in a landscape that some might consider more of a hell than a heaven - in the 'flat, bleak, often desolate expanse of shingle that faces the Nuclear Power Station in Dungeness, Kent'. Spurred on by a true personal vision, his painterly eye and strong ecological conviction, Jarman tended the garden from 1986 until his death.

It is difficult to begin to express the intensity of my experience today, on visiting the garden. Suffice for the moment to say that it has strengthened my conviction in the necessity and power of art, of beauty and the individual vision of each human being. I am, I admit, in pensive mode right now. How could I not be? I've begun each day of the school Easter holidays by remaining in bed with Louis Fischer's 'Life of Mahatma Gandhi'. It is difficult not to question one's own motives, the values of one's own actions, when considering a life as meaningful as Gandhi's. The effect of Jarman's garden on me, however, has been to remind me that one does not have to change the world in huge ways to make an important impact. Jarman's faith in nature, in beauty, in the power of the human spirit, in love, in poetry - all these have a huge impact on anyone who visits this garden or simply reads Jarman's words and views Sooley's photographs in the book 'Derek Jarman's Garden'.

I have always been interested in the power of symbol and the importance of 'connections'. Indeed I believe that when we write, what we are in fact doing is making powerful 'connections' in our unconscious, mining what is there but has not yet been 'connected'. Today was full of such connections and as a result I feel enriched, inspired and purposeful. Let me list just a few of them.

I enter a Rye bookshop and on the wall is a photographic mural of writers who have signed books in the shop - including my old tutor Malcolm Bradbury. I walk up a cobbled street that figures heavily in my childhood memories - only this time, with my own children. I happen upon Henry James' 'Lamb House' that I read about last year in Colm Toibin's 'The Master'. My daughter asks for help in making a daisy chain. We make it into a crown about her head. Later, in the Jarman book, I read how he made daisy chains as a child. We are on the beach at Dungeness and I tell my children that you could make a necklace of those stones with the holes in. Later, I look at the Jarman book again and discover that he incorporated such 'necklaces' into his standing sculptures. I read too of his vision of his stones as Dolmens. On our last holiday, we visited the largest formations of Dolmens in France.

I'm not claiming there is magic here. A personal magic perhaps, no more. Here's what Jarman writes on the subject of magic:

"At first, people thought I was building a garden for magical purposes - a white witch out to get the nuclear power station. It did have magic - the magic of surprise, the treasure hunt. A garden is a treasure-hunt, the plants the paperchase."

Sometimes we need such 'magicians' as artists are. We need these magicians to feed our imaginations, to encourage us to see the nobility of the human spirit, what we are capable of, what a single individual can contribute. We need to take time away from the everyday, to step into other worlds, to 'open our eyes' afresh. When Jarman first moved to Prospect Cottage, he didn't plan a garden. Who would plan a garden in such an inhospitable spot? But one day, he planted a dog-rose and used a piece of driftwood as a stake. So the garden was begun.

Comments

[Zinnia Cyclamen]

That is a beautiful post. Thank you for writing and publishing it.

[liz fenwick]

Beautiful thoughts........looking at piles of laundry after the Easter hols it is good to be remind of the strengh of art.

I was popping in to say that i finally have caught up with all the novel racers again so welcome......holidays are wonderful but they do interupt life :-)

[Jacqui Lofthouse]

Thanks so much Zinnia and Liz. It's lovely to have these responses. I'm looking forward to getting to know you all and joining in with the novel racers on my return...

[Cynthia Morris]

It's so refreshing to be inspired by others. I, too, get inspiration from people working in different artistic media. And the reminder about making a big difference in small ways was a good one. Thanks Jacqui!

[Marie]

That's lovely. I can understand why you would find it so inspiring, Jacqui.

[Jacqui Lofthouse]

Thanks Marie, so glad you enjoyed the post. Jacqui

[rivergirlie]

oh i'd LOVE to go there. and the image is fantastic. i'd love to hear more
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